What can I write
When feelings dwell in ashy clouds
Burning at a million temperatures
Beneath the naked sun there is no place
For truth to hide or lies to be dispelled
What can I write
When letters seem to skew
When knowledge seeks a distant memory
Amidst this bending world and fading imagery
I kneel atop an empty pedestal
That sits affront the tomb of destiny
How could I write
When meaning is so still
Captive at the gates of certainty
That every man who’s ever lived is bound to die
What comfort in that notion can there be?
Aloof from time and figure I bequeath
All my possessions and desires
I sink into a silent reverie
Contemplating moral constancy
That I may live forever trough my deeds
And that the world, through my ambitious love
May remember me
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Character: 73/100
bohemiaspeaks 